


Space of Inwardness

by jesterlady



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Gen, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 06:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1888947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Ho, Clint Barton, I would have a word with you,” Thor’s booming voice echoed from behind him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space of Inwardness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers. The title is by James Houston  
> A/N: I waited a year after the Avengers before I wrote this one shot and then another one before posting it. It's a little late to the game, but let's just say I've always been curious about how Clint and Thor would interact after the Battle of Manhattan and how it was no coincidence that they chose Clint to be the cameo in Thor.

Clint was perched on the top of Stark Tower, (now commonly called Avengers Tower since Tony had never replaced the sign and the big ‘A’ still stood tall, shining white when the tower’s electricity was turned on), perilously close to the edge.

He came up there a lot after what happened. It had been three months and he’d only been allowed two missions for S.H.I.E.L.D during that time. Natasha has been his partner both times, which suited him fine, but he was feeling antsy over the lack of action. It provided him with way too many opportunities to dwell on the events that formed the Avengers, the people he’d killed, the way it had felt to watch himself do horrible things.

He’d done them voluntarily once, well, in a way. His past hadn't been shiny clean before he’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D and he had blood on his hands. But that had been different and he’d made an effort to change, to grow, to not live a life simply because it was what was presented to him. He’d had faith.

His faith was gone now. It had been stripped from him by a blue light, silver-tongued words, and arrows notched with his own hands. Now all he had left was the memory of what he’d done and the useless information that there wasn’t anything he could have done about it.

He had been to three shrinks over the last three months. Everyone told him the same thing, to take it easy, go slow, try not to blame himself, feel free to vent his emotions, don't retreat into himself, take some time off.

He had. He'd taken a month off. Natasha had taken it with him and they’d spent one month wandering the globe, doing useless things like taking the underground tour in Seattle and visiting movie studios in New Zealand and standing on the Giant’s Causeway in Ireland and eating amazing Thai food in Thailand. The days were all right, her constant presence at his side, the fresh air, the lack of a weapon in his hand or strapped to his back.

They had traveled commercial so they couldn’t take their own weapons but both he and Natasha had weapon caches stashed all over the globe and if they needed them, they were there.

The nights weren’t good, Loki’s voice echoed throughout his nightmares every night, a haze of blue covering Clint’s vision, and sometimes he woke up gasping and he never felt safe. Natasha hadn’t let him sleep by himself and he was grateful for that because he didn’t feel like he could cope all alone. She didn’t say much either and he liked that too because he didn’t know what to say.  
What she did say was important and he clung to her sparse words like precious jewels mined from hardship and well-fought trial. She was the only person he knew who could understand him; understand his mind and the lack of confidence he felt. His control had seeped away along with the adrenaline after the final battle and he didn’t know where to look for it anymore.

Natasha kept him from going crazy. It was his turn, his turn to be the one who needed the support and a small part of him would rather she be the strong one anyway because the idea of her retreating back into herself, into being nothing but the product of her twisted upbringing scared him to death. She’d been going for years longer than he could count before he met her and didn’t put an arrow through her head when he was told to and he wouldn’t want her to ever have to relive them.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to scream sometimes or from jumping at every shadow or from wanting to break the barriers to the universe so he could beat Loki to a pulp. He had attended the funerals of every single one of the agents who had died during the Helicarrier incident, Natasha silent at his side, and he didn’t know if he was trying to punish himself or absolve his guilt. Natasha told him once that it was both.

She was gone now, off on assignment for Fury, doing something that only her special skills could accomplish. It was rare that she didn’t need her eyes in the sky, but this mission had appeared to require it and she’d left him behind with a scorching kiss and a half quirk to her lips when she told him not to do anything stupid.

He couldn’t promise that. But he would try.

He didn’t want to live on the base anymore so he'd taken up residence in the Avengers Tower and living with Tony Stark was bearable because Tony was only there half of the time and because Steve and Bruce were there as well. The entire floor, all to himself, custom fit to his needs helped. Being around fellow agents was a disaster waiting to happen, he felt. Fury had agreed reluctantly. Clint gathered it was because Fury could see that Clint was ready to quit entirely if he didn’t get what he needed and so Clint was assigned full time to the Avengers Initiative.

He spent a lot of his time up on the roof, gazing down at the city. He could see a lot from there, people rushing about their lives, keeping little secrets and getting into petty arguments, loving and spending time with their families, working jobs they hated and spending way too much money, reconstructing their lives after the trauma and destruction that he was partially responsible for. He was removed from it all.

But he never forgot it. He saw everything from his perch above the city and he pledged to protect it once he could. But for now he was simply stuck up there, a cage close to the sky with the promise of freedom; but all he had were the thoughts of flight, never the ability to leap.

There was a loud bang from behind him and Clint didn’t flinch. He had learned to distinguish which noises were hostile. Besides, it wasn’t explosions or loud noises that made him flinch, it was soft things like the padding of bare feet or a whisper across the room or quiet laughter. His takeover had been quiet and seamless and a fog over his body and mind and everything quiet reminded him of what it was like to have no control.

“Ho, Clint Barton, I would have a word with you,” Thor’s booming voice echoed from behind him.

Yeah, Thor was back. He had been for a few weeks, having braved the dangers of dimension traveling to come back and help restore the glory of Midgard or something like that. He had spent most of it in Norway with Jane Foster, a woman Clint had only ever got glimpses of from far off. Thor had brought her to visit once and Clint had been formally introduced and then he'd slipped off back to the roof as he had every time Thor looked like he was going to talk to him.

Clint didn’t have anything against Thor, but, while the other man was nothing like his brother, the thought of being around anyone from Asgard was too much for Clint to handle at the moment.

It didn’t look like Thor was going to give him the option of fleeing this time.

“What can I do for you, big guy?” Clint asked, lithely jumping from the wall and then leaning on it casually.

“I would speak of what occurred between you and my brother.”

“I ever tell you I saw you in New Mexico your first trip here?” Clint interrupted, changing the subject.

Thor looked confused.

“I do not recall seeing you at the site of my landing, nor in Jane’s town.”

“In my line of work it usually pays not to be seen,” Clint replied. 

Thor grinned.

“You were swift in the shadows then. It is not my favored method for a fight, but it is very favored by several of my people, including my brother.”

Clint tried not to flinch, but he couldn’t help it.

“I was there to take you down when you tried to get the hammer back,” Clint said quickly, wanting to avoid any more conversation about Loki.

It was obvious Thor had seen the look on his face and his curiosity was apparently warring with his purpose.

“I have seen your skills,” Thor said, “I do not doubt you would have hit me, but I do not recall being pierced with an arrow that night.”

“I held off,” Clint said simply. “I was the last resort. Coulson said to stand down in the end.”

He didn’t like thinking about Coulson either, but it was better than Loki. Sometimes.

“I am truly sorry for the Son of Coul’s demise,” Thor said simply. “He was indeed a fearsome man."

“You’ve no idea,” Clint said, grinning a little wildly.

Now was shaping up to be a worse Coulson time than Loki time and the last thing Clint wanted to do in front of the mythic god of thunder was start laughing hysterically and/or weeping. 

“Truly it was the worse of the crimes my brother perpetuated during his stay on Midgard,” Thor said. “Though there were others I must ask for pardon in his stead.”

“Thor-" Clint began.

“Nay, friend Clint, this I must say. I apologize for the wrong Loki did you and the wrongs he caused you to commit. I humbly ask your pardon on behalf of all of Asgard and let it be known you have only to ask and my help will be given should you require it.”

Clint stared for a second or two because gracious boons aren’t something he’s used to and probably haven’t really been done on Earth for quite a long time. He wished Natasha were there because he knew she would find this as ridiculous as he did and he had a snarky comment he really needed her to hear right now.

Still there was such earnestness to Thor’s gaze and nobility in the way he held himself waiting for Clint’s response. It was entirely different to Clint’s blurred and yet all too clear memories of Loki. It made Clint feel surer of himself than he had since the event and he suddenly recalled a beaten and soaked Thor fallen to his knees beside a weapon he could no longer wield.

“What was Loki like?” Clint found himself blurting out. “Before he went hardcore villain and decided to rule the world?”

“I fear I cannot truly say,” Thor said sadly. “Though he is my brother and we were raised together, scarcely ever apart, I find that my own thoughts were centered upon myself and did not often look on others. Perhaps it is for this reason that he has learned to hate me. But I would have said we were friends as well as brothers. His strength was not like to mine and he preferred the magical arts, something not common to the men of our land. He was prone to mischief and study and laughter and long speeches fell easily from his tongue. He was ever beside me, keeping me from many follies. I fear I counted too hardily on his support without ever offering any in return. If not for my stay on Midgard I would never have thought differently. I owe Midgard and its inhabitants much.” Thor’s tone was melancholy and distant as he spoke and he did not look at Clint. But then he smiled tentatively and clapped Clint on the shoulder, probably causing bruises and internal bleeding. “If not for Jane I would not have learned what a king truly is, and, if not for you, I would have been stuck full of arrows, resembling more a target than a man. I thank you for forbearing and would hear more of your tale regarding my first visit to Midgard.”

Clint had to blink because he was still trying to focus on what Thor had said about Loki and trying not to rub his shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said finally. “I could get used to the idea of the prince of Asgard owing me one.”

“I will stand by my pledge,” Thor said, smiling. “Is there anything you would request?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Clint said. “Doubt I’ll ask for your firstborn though cause that would just be a lot of work.”

“That would indeed be a hard thing to grant,” Thor said, seemingly confused. “I would not want to go back on my word but it would-"

“It’s just a story here on Earth,” Clint said, taking pity on him. 

He and Tony had started using as many clichés, proverbs, and sayings around Thor that they could just to see if he would take them literally. Tony was winning simply by actually spending time with Thor. Suddenly Clint didn’t think that should stand anymore.

“I would be interested in having it told,” Thor said.

“I’ll do you a solid and try to lay it down for you,” Clint said, mentally making a tally. “We could use a nightcap though since it’s pretty long, but there’s no time like the present so let’s make hay while the sun shines.”

“It is night time,” Thor said, sounding so utterly confused that Clint had to laugh.

“Nothing gets past you, that’s for sure.”

“In battle I am truly vigilant,” Thor said, and Clint stared again before Thor laughed. “I am not that ignorant of Midgardian customs, Clint. In time I shall best both you and Tony.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Clint answered.

Thor raised an eyebrow and threw back his shoulders.

“Before we retire and hear the tragic tale of giving away firstborn children and why you did not shoot me, I need an honest answer from you. Our conversation has been as confusing and twisting as a labyrinth and I must return to my original point.”

“Hit me,” Clint couldn’t resist saying.

Thor looked confused again for a second.

“You have my offer of help because of the wrong my brother did you. I said the death of Agent Coulson was the most terrible act Loki committed, but the harm done to you and my friend Erik is no small thing. I would aid you if I am able. Are you…okay?”

Clint wanted to laugh again at the simple question and the sincere concern practically dripping from Thor’s voice. But the laughter wouldn't come simply because the feelings Clint had been avoiding since the Battle of Manhattan were too easily dredged up by his conversation with Thor.

He shook his head and found himself speaking words he’d only ever whispered to Natasha during the night and confessing things he’d never thought to ever tell the man before him.

“Not really, no. No, can’t say that I am. But…I will be. It’s just hard to tell if I’m me or not sometimes. Everything’s different and it doesn’t matter who was pulling my strings, I was the instrument of destruction. I can’t ever undo it. But even if he’s gone, he still feels like he’s there, just beyond my sight. I’ll never be Clint Barton again, not the same way. Nobody knows that, not really.”

“I know what it is like to live with the shadow of Loki in your eyes,” Thor said gently, for him. “I know what it is like to have blood on your hands. I know the aftermath of battle and the weary guilt of the win. You are a warrior, Clint Barton, your own man as you make yourself, and you are not alone. No situation is ever exact, but Erik feels this way as well, and I have heard from Tony about the Lady Natasha’s past. There is a path to walk if you are willing.”

Clint shook his head and clenched his fist a few times.

“You’re something else, Thor. I knew I was right to root for you. I always know. And at least I can still see, still see others.”

“I did not understand some of that,” Thor admitted, “but I am glad to help.”

“I know,” Clint said, putting his hand out and wished he hadn’t a second later when Thor gripped it much too tightly.

“Shall we have this…nightcap you spoke of?”

“It would be my genuine pleasure,” Clint said, walking toward the building.

He took one last look out over the city, his eyes seeing far more than what was readily available. He still had that, still had his outlook on the world. 

He was broken and defiled, but he was piecing back together and renewing. Somehow there was something, something out there for him. Working with this team, with these people who had helped save the world was a start, taking in deep breaths and getting up in the morning would continue it. Looking at Natasha and seeing her purpose and strength would bolster him against any storm, leaving a fire inside him even when the water poured down. It was like she said, wiping out one entry in your ledger at a time, sometimes the balance was too much for any one person to pay back, but he’d make the effort.

He’d remember he wasn’t the only one with a past. Everyone on the Avengers had been touched by Loki in some way, had been compromised, and Clint wasn’t willing to be the only one to admit defeat. He’d been beaten and broken before and he’d climbed high and far above it and breathed freely. It was a long way to fall, but he’d just start climbing again.


End file.
